


The 4th Quarter Quell

by thatgirlwholaughsalot



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Minor Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgirlwholaughsalot/pseuds/thatgirlwholaughsalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“As a reminder to the districts that no one is safe, all parents of reaping-age children will have their names entered in the reaping bowl. No reaping-age children will have their names entered,” President Snow stated.</p>
<p>Prim wasn't reaped. Katniss didn't volunteer. Katniss and Peeta cross paths throughout the years, but their paths collide before and after the events of the 4th Quarter Quell. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seeking Beta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

My body tensed when Snow pulled out the card for the reading for the 4th Quarter Quell, and I felt a pang that three out of my four children had some possibility of being reaped this year.

The Quells were always extra horrible as if the Hunger Games wasn’t an already horrible event. The 1st Quell involved the people of the district voting on who would be sent into the games.The 2nd Quell involved double the amount of participants, and the 3rd Quell… the 3rd Quell was the worst of them all in my opinion because all the tributes sent were twelve years old. Hopefully, this Quell would not be as horrible as the others.

Gale leaned over and squeezed my shoulder, giving me a slight smile. I sighed. Twenty six years ago I had asserted clearly to everyone in the whole district that I was never going to get married and never going to have children. Over the years, Gale wore me down with his constant companionship and logic. I was shocked when he asked me if he could court me after my final reaping. At first, I was skeptical, but after Gale convinced me that we could both benefit from a marriage, I agreed. After all, a wife could receive benefits if he were to die in the mines, but a mother could not. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him and married him two years later. Gale leaned over and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“Ew!” Heath, our fourteen-year-old, proclaimed. I smiled. Even though I never saw myself here, I was happy I was here.

“As a reminder to the districts that no one is safe, all parents of reaping-age children will have their names entered in the reaping bowl. No reaping-age children will have their names entered,” President Snow stated.

It took a second for it to sink in. Gale and I looked at each other with glee. Our children would not have their names entered in the reaping this year. Our names would be in there instead. We would put our names in the reaping a hundred times over in order to keep our children safe.

“Congratulations, Willow,” I said softly, “Last year was apparently your last reaping.” My daughter will no longer be eligible for the Hunger Games. Willow got up off the chair, and I got off the couch. We met in a hug. I look into her deep blue eyes, the same eyes she inherited from her maternal grandmother. 

“Guess that Cartwright boy will be around any minute to ask for your hand,” I said matter-of-factly. The two had been courting for three years. Willow blushed.

“Mom!” The TV volume got louder as if all on its own, and our entire family turned to look at the TV. Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman were expanding on more of the rules of this year’s reaping. Each parent would take on half of their children’s reaping entries. If chlldren only had one parent, that parent would assume all of their child’s reaping entries. If the number was uneven, the father would have one more entry than the mother. We were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. I moved to answer it, surprised to see my daughter.

“Mom!” Rose said, launching herself into my arms. Tears were clearly streaming down her cheeks. My daughter- my beautiful, strong daughter was crying.

“Shh… shh…” I whispered, stroking her hair and wondering why she risked coming here when she knows the risks for walking around during a mandatory broadcast.

“Mom, what if it’s you? What if it’s Dad?” she whispered, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll have eight entries. He’ll have nine. Compared to other families… we’ll be fine. If not, at least it won’t be your siblings.”

My words did little to mollify her, and she continued to cry hysterically. I managed to maneuver her to the bed she and Willow shared before she married. Our house was once small, but once Gale became a foreman in the mines, it was upgraded and we moved to a different part of the Seam. The girls shared a room until Rose married, the boys share a room, and Gale and I share a room. We’re lucky to live in a house with three bedrooms- it’s such a luxury. I stroked her hair as I sang the song I sung to her every night before bed when she was young.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

 

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.”

I was interrupted by a knock, which caused me to stop singing and Gale strode into the room.

“Is Rose asleep?” Gale asked.

“Yeah,” I said softly. Gale leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. Just like when she was little. Gale and I shared a look. Nostalgia. His expression was somber- Rose had come home repeatedly over the past couple of months since she got married. She’d come up with excuse after excuse to spend a night at home- she probably came home three times per week. One day, I walked in on her changing, and then I saw the bruises.

Gale and I have always been clever- we knew exactly the kind of man Rose’s husband, Daven, was. Daven was one of the richer miners- his father was a foreman, and he was a foreman too. Rose married him, knowing that he was abusive, presumably so that her siblings could have more to eat. She didn’t love him. It bothered me of course, but Gale was positively distraught about it. I stroked her hair, kissing her forehead before Gale and I shut the door and left the room ready to comfort the other children who were becoming more aware of why their sister was coming home so often even if they hadn’t seen the bruises.

The next morning I rose early. Gale had already gone to the mines, but the snow had started to melt and I had a feeling it would be a good hunting day. I woke Willow and we slipped under the fence to retrieve my bow and arrows. She was getting much better- she was hardly as good as Gale or I, but she never really relied on her hunting technique for food.

We hunted for about two hours, and arrived back home with a couple squirrels and rabbits. She began to get ready for school, and I began to skin the animals, preparing to sell our game in town. I walked the kids to school and then headed off to town ready to sell some game. I went about my day, trading a rabbit for a head of lettuce and another for a pair of socks. I usually go in order of location whenever I trade in town with two exceptions: I make sure to trade with the baker second to last and the apothecary last. I do this because the baker unnerves me and makes me uncomfortable, and seeing my sister usually makes it a bit better.

I walked in the bakery’s front door, knowing that it was still too early for a lot of business. I used to enter in the back door when the baker’s mother ran the bakery, but when she died, I started coming through the front door. The baker appeared to be frosting a cake or something, but his eyes lit up when they saw me.

“Katniss!” he smiled excitedly.

“Hello, Mr. Mellark,” I replied tersely. You see, nearly everyone in town always calls me Mrs. Hawthorne. It’s respectful and isn’t too familiar the way calling me by my first name would be. Since he took over the bakery, Mr. Mellark has always called me by my first name, and he doesn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable it makes me. He’s the youngest son; his older brothers were both more interested in their wives’ businesses. I must have known his first name once considering we were in the same year at school, but it seems that over time I have forgotten it. I held up two squirrels and raise my eyebrow accordingly. He nodded and went into the kitchen. A minute later, he emerged carrying two loaves of nut and raisin bread. I scowled. This is another reason the baker made me so uncomfortable. He was too generous- and certainly far too nice. He used to slip cookies and other treats into my kids’ pockets when I wasn’t looking when they were younger and asked for no payment in return. He still slips treats into Mason’s pockets sometimes. He knew I could never pay him back for the treats- and I was sick of all my unpaid debts to the baker.

“So,” he said while wrapping up the loaves, “I heard Ivan Cartwright went to ask your husband for your second daughter’s hand.” I scowled further. This was yet another reason why trading with the baker was such a horrible thing. Unlike the other merchants who allowed me to do my trading in silence, he always felt the need to make small talk.

“Probably,” I stated, “Now that they’re both out of the reapings. They’ve been courting for awhile now.” The baker smiled. “That’s an…” he trailed off as if attempting to find the word, “Advantageous match.” I scowled further. I knew exactly what he was doing. He thought it was advantageous because Willow would marry a man from the Merchant class- we were a Seam family, and my eldest daughter married a man from the Seam. The comment rattled me. I felt the need to defend my daughter.

“I don’t know about the match being advantageous. My sister and brother-in-law run the apothecary,” I snapped. I think the baker has just now realized that his comment offended me. He seems to be attempting to find a new topic.

“Half your kids are free from the reapings forever, aren’t they? I heard about the marriage of your oldest- Rosemary is it? ” “Yes, Rose and Willow are done, but Heath is fourteen and Mason is twelve,” I stated, “I’m just glad that Gale and I will be entered instead of them this year.” “Yes, I’m glad it’ll be my name in instead of Addie’s,” Mr. Mellark smiled kindly. I almost forgot that the baker had a daughter- his only child because his wife died in childbirth. She’s in Mason’s class.

“Well, thank you for the bread, Mr. Mellark,” I stated, taking hold of the loaves, eager to leave.

“Yes, stop in again, Katniss!” he said, waving me out. I scowled the whole way to see Prim.

The weeks passed by quickly. Gale went to work, I hunted and traded, the kids went to school, Rose continued to come home often in hysterics. Willow and Ivan planned their wedding for the end of the summer. Life went on, but my sister had been having nightmares again. My poor, pregnant sister was scared that she was going to be reaped. I would hold her close, stroke her hair just like I used to do when she was young, and reassure her that she would not be picked. Birch was thirteen, and Prim would have one entry.

Then the day of the reaping arrived. Gale and I ventured into the woods before the sun rose. This was our ritual before the reaping every year. We shot a few animals, and then sat down, looking over our kills in the game back. I looked up to find Gale gazing at me when he leaned over and kissed me. It’s amazing that I’d been married to him for twenty-two years and he still had this effect on me. I deepened the kiss, parting my lips slightly. We stayed like that a long while before he pulled away, a sad smile on his face.

I knew even without words what Gale was thinking. We have three children in the reaping this year instead of two, and one child is certainly older. Willow took tesserae without telling us her plan one year when a winter was bad and there weren’t many animals for Gale and I to kill. The odds weren’t in our favor. They’re better than they were our final reapings, when Gale had forty-two entries and I had twenty-eight, but they’re not good. And I know what Gale is trying to tell me without words. That even if one of us is reaped today, we’ll be okay. We’re strong. We know what it’s like to be hungry. We’re smart. Gale and I stood, our hands locked together.

“We’ve built a beautiful life together, Catnip,” he stated. I wrinkled my nose. That was his childhood nickname for me, and he hasn’t called me that in years. I’m not good with words, and normally neither is he, but we don’t really need to have words to communicate. I know that he’s saying that he means he’s glad we built a beautiful life together here, and even with the reapings, Rose’s marriage, and the Games, he’s glad we didn’t take off and live in the woods.

“If you want to go get ready, I’ll trade everything,” I offered. Gale quirked an eyebrow at me.

“You need to bathe. You’re still a little covered in coal dust,” I whispered, running my hand up his arm. Gale snorted.

“In case you’re heading to the Capitol today,” I told him. His grey eyes met mine, and I knew that we were remembering our last conversation with Madge Undersee, the mayor’s daughter, before she was reaped. Madge had said that she wanted to look pretty in case she was going to the Capitol, and Gale was insulted. His chances of heading to the Capitol were ten times what hers were. Then she was reaped.

Gale nodded tersely, “You go trade the goods.” I made my rounds around town. The butcher and grocer wished me luck today with the ever-cliché phrase “may the odds be ever in your favor.” Others simply made the trade in silence, thanked me, and our business was finished. When I got to the bakery, I opened the door and held out the squirrel for Mr. Mellark, hoping to get business done quickly. He seemed frantic.

“Katniss, how many entries do you have today?” I was appalled that he was asking me this question; after all, my personal life was no business of his, but his blue eyes pleaded me for an answer so I gave him one.

“Eight,” I said, and even though I didn’t intend to elaborate, I did. “I had eight entries by the time I was thirteen, so the odds are more in my favor now than back then,” I snapped. Mr. Mellark jerked back a little as if slapped.

“Sorry,” he stated quietly, “I didn’t mean to pry.” Instant regret courses through me. I have a bad temper and so does Gale. It made our marriage hard in the beginning, but we’ve both become less annoyed and angry over the years. It’s been ages since I snapped at someone. He was worried, but why? Then it hits me, and anger floods my veins.

“You thought I let my children take tesserae?” I seethed, “After having entries in the dozens due to tesserae as a teenager, I could never do that to my children. What kind of a parent do you think I am?” He must have done the math and realized that if I never let my children take tesserae, I would have five entries and not eight because he looks confused.

“Well, Willow signed up once without telling us during a harsh winter,” I said defensively, “Here, take your squirrel!”

I threw the dead squirrel onto the counter and stormed out of the bakery, ignoring Mr. Mellark calling after me. He could keep his bread. I didn’t calm down until I got to Prim’s. I let her have a rabbit I shot, and she gave me a button-down shirt for Heath.

“It’s too much,” I insisted, and then she reminded me that I let Birch have the girls’ hand-me-downs. Tears well in her eyes.

“Katniss,” she whispered, “I’m scared.” For a thirty-eight year old woman, Prim reminded me of twenty-six years ago during her first reaping. Her fear never ceased, and each successive reaping her anxiety increased. I bring her close to me in a hug.

“You’ll be fine,” I whispered, “You have one entry. You’re okay.” Her shirt was sticking out of her dress- just like when we were kids, so I let go and turned so that I was facing her back.

“Though you’d better tuck that tail in, little duck.” I glanced at the clock and groaned. Noon already. “I’d better go get ready. I haven’t bathed yet or eaten lunch.”

“See you at the reaping, little duck,” I stated, leaving the apothecary.

By the time I arrive home, Gale’s already drawn my bath. He’s pulling a rabbit out of the icebox for lunch, and I set a head of lettuce on the counter before stepping into the bath. Alone with my thoughts, I think back to my unfortunate encounter with Mr. Mellark today. Questions flood my mind. Why did he think my children took out tesserae? Did he really think that poorly of me? When did I care what Mr. Mellark thought of me? But the most important question sticking out in my head was: Why was Mr. Mellark worried about me?

When I step out of the bath, I see that Gale’s laid out my wedding dress on my bed. It’s my nicest dress, and the only time I’ve had occasion to wear it was our wedding and other people’s weddings. His brothers’ weddings. My sister’s. Rose’s. He’s also laid out a gold chain near the neckline of the dress, and on that gold chain is a small and beautiful locket. I opened the locket to find a picture of Gale staring back at me. Like many pictures, it’s old. I also recognize it because it was taken on our wedding day. This gift is beautiful, but I can’t help but wonder how he could afford this. I put on the dress and picked up the locket, walking into the dining room.

“Mama!” Willow exclaimed, “You look so beautiful!”

The boys and Gale are already eating. There wasn’t enough time for them to wait for me. I hand Gale the locket and watch as he latched it around my neck. I’ll have to get a minute alone with him to ask him why he bought me such an extravagant gift and if we can afford it. I made myself a plate and sit down to eat, the somber atmosphere around us palpable even as we converse. Gale informed me teasingly that he is now free of specks of coal. Mason told me about the A he received on his history report, and Heath told me about how he signed up for wrestling. Willow smiled as she told us that Mr. Cartwright, who adores her, bought her a wedding dress. Finally, it is time to head to the reaping. We walk to the reaping as a family, Gale and I holding hands, the kids trailing behind us. After quite a walk, we’re at the town square and wait in line to check in. I bring Gale’s ear to mine before whispering, “How did you afford this?” Gale smiled,

“It’s an early anniversary gift. I’ve been saving for months and bringing extra meat to the jeweler’s.” Then, he lowered his voice. “I wanted for you to have a token in case you’re chosen.” He kissed me on the forehead, and it was our turn to sign in. We took our places in the square, and I was suddenly transported back in time twenty-six years to Gale's last reaping. Our last reaping together.

Effie Trinket steps on the stage, looking like she hasn't aged a day since my last reaping and begins the program. I space out a little until it's time for her to draw the names. "Ladies first!" she said and steps to the bowl of women's names.

The odds are in my favor, but I wish for it to not be me. _Pick another slip. A slip that doesn't have Katniss Hawthorne on it._ She pulls out a slip. And it’s not me.

It’s Primrose Barberry. I saw my sister move up towards the stage. She only had one entry, so she was situated as close to the back as possible. I couldn’t believe it. I was in shock; I couldn’t breathe or think or do anything. When Prim passed me, she placed a hand on her stomach as if to reassure her child that nothing bad would happen- just like I used to do with my kids. It is this action that makes me understand the entire situation and pulls me out of my stupor. No one is going to volunteer for my sister. My niece or nephew will die in the arena. And with this realization, I knew what I must do. I don’t think about Gale or Rose or Willow or Heath or Mason as I surge forward.

“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!” I shrieked, pulling Prim behind me. In the square, you could hear a pin drop for a second as what I’ve just done sinks in. I’ve just volunteered. I am probably the first volunteer District 12 has ever had- I’m certainly the only one in the last half a century. Then the screaming starts. I hear shrieks coming from different directions and can identify the sounds. Rose. Willow. Prim. Heath. Mason. Birch.

Gale emerges from out of nowhere, pulling Prim away as she attempted to claw her way towards me- to stop me from what I’m about to do. I climbed the stairs, and I saw the way Effie Trinket smiled at me. She’s been the District 12 escort since I was a kid but doesn’t look like she’s aged a day. At first, there’s confusion on the stage as to the protocol for volunteers, but I’ve already volunteered, and it’s too late for Prim to come back on stage.

“What’s your name?” she asked me curiously.

“Katniss Hawthorne,” I stated confidently. Even If I’m not confident, I can at least exude confidence. It’s better than looking weak.

“How do you know Mrs. Barberry?” she asked, confused. I’m surprised because in Career districts where volunteers are rampant, usually only names are announced with no further questions. Effie Trinket must be curious in order to break the volunteering norm.

“She’s my sister,” I announced.

“Guess you didn’t want her to steal all the glory, now did you?” she asked and suddenly I was surging with anger.

I don’t answer her question and Effie takes this as her cue to ask for applause. To the everlasting credit of District 12, not one person claps. Instead, I see people beginning to put three fingers of their left hand to their lips and hold them out to me. In the past few minutes I have gone from Mrs. Hawthorne, the taciturn huntress who provides somewhat affordable fresh meat to someone precious. I have protected my pregnant sister from the arena. I will likely not return. I’m genuinely touched by this action, but I barely have a moment to step out of my reverie before Effie Trinket has another slip in her hand. I try to snap out of my reverie when she opens the slip and says into the microphone, “Gale Hawthorne.”


	2. Two

A loud shriek rings across the square and I clamped my hand over my mouth once I came to the realization that it’s mine.  
I see him make his way to the stage. _My husband and I are going to die._

_Will there even be a wedding now for Willow? With both of us gone, our family won’t be able to pay her dowry- especially to a man in town. Ivan won’t care, but perhaps his father might._

_What will happen to Heath and Mason? Will they live with Rory or Vick? Prim? Rose?_

This complicates so many things. Gale’s mounting the stage when I see a figure moving towards the stage from a distance and hear a voice yelling, “I volunteer! I volunteer!”  
Whoever it was must have a young child in the reaping and probably only one because the voice is coming from close to where Prim was.

Gale stops moving onto the stage, and I see the baker running towards the stage.  
Mr. Mellark mounts the stage, and I find myself seething in anger.  
The baker has saved my husband from the area- another debt I cannot possibly begin to repay him. Just like the bread from when we were kids.   

Gale looked at Mr. Mellark in shock. Anger crossed Gale's face for a brief second, but he schooled his features to an impassive mask just as he's done so many times before. "Thanks man," Gale offered, putting out a hand.

Mr. Mellark took it and shook it. "You're welcome, Gale."

I feel as if I've watched an exchange between two friends, but to my knowledge, Gale, like me, has never been particularly friendly with the baker. 

Gale turned and left the stage. Mr. Mellark continued climbing the steps.

"Two volunteers?" Effie remarked with glee, "What's your name?" 

Mr. Mellark turned the microphone. "Peeta Mellark."

_Peeta. That was the baker's name._

"Gale Hawthorne isn't your brother," Effie remarked, ever-so subtly trying to figure out Mr. Mellark's-Peeta's- motivation for volunteering.

Mr. Mellark gave a hearty laugh. "No. He isn't." 

Effie waits for a reply, but when it's clear that she's not going to get one, she orders for District 12 to applaud Mr. Mellark's bravery.

No one claps just like how it was for me. 

Why did Mr. Mellark volunteer? He's a single father, and if he's killed, his daughter will go to the community home unless one of his older brothers can take her in. 

Although, his brothers could probably afford to do so. 

Besides, either Gale or I would've made it out of the arena.

The scowl begins to form on my face as I wonder about Mr. Mellark's motivations. 

"Go on now," Effie said, "Shake hands." 

I turned towards Mr. Mellark and he turned towards me, and I couldn't help but think about how impossibly blue they are- brighter than Willow's.

He lifted his hand and held it out to me, and I took it gingerly in my own. 

And with that, we are led to the Justice Building by two Peacekeepers each.

I'm thrown haphazardly into a room and Gale followed less than thirty seconds later.

"Gale," I cried out, running towards him and throwing my arms around him.

He rests his head on my shoulder, and I know without words what he's thinking.  _You have to survive._

"Do whatever it takes to survive, Katniss," Gale urged. 

I let go of Gale immediately and looked at him curiously. "What do you mean by that?" I stammered out.

We both know I'll probably have to kill people in the arena. I'll have to deceive, lie, cheat. I'll have to do whatever it takes to win these Games because I have so much to come back for. Making sure Rose is okay. Willow's wedding. Seeing Prim's child born. 

Gale chortled. "You'll understand, but not now. I mean it. I won't hold anything you say or do in the Games against you. You do whatever it takes to be the one coming out of that arena." 

"I will. I just want to know why the baker volunteered for you," I wondered aloud.

Gale coughed. Instead of answering my question, he trailed off to a different topic. "I'll make sure his girl is cared for. So don't let his volunteering stop you from winning the Games." 

Gale knows me better than anyone on this planet, and he knows that to me kind people are more dangerous than mean people. Kind people have this way of worming their way into my heart, and Peeta Mellark did something I could never in a million years repay him for: he saved my husband from the Games. 

I don't want to kill the baker. I don't want to kill  _anyone_ , but I will have to if I am to return home, and with 24 of us in the arena, chances are someone else might kill him first. Then again, with the reaping of my sister and husband, the odds have not been in my favor as of late.

The Peacekeeper came and informed Gale that he had one minute before he escorted him out. Gale kissed me on the forehead. "I know you can do it. You can win." 

I swallowed. Maybe I could. He smiled before turning and walking out of the room.

I waited for another minute before my sister came in and threw her arms around me. "Katniss," she whimpered, the tears falling down her face, "Why did you do it?" 

"Because I couldn't let you die," I choked out, the tears threatening to fall from my eyes as well. 

I don't cry normally. The last time I did was three years ago. I'd missed two cycles and found myself huddled over the toilet, purging my stomach of all its contents. Hunting made me sick, and I knew all the signs of pregnancy from my four previous pregnancies. It wasn't planned. Neither Rose nor Mason- my oldest and my youngest- were planned. When I told Gale, I knew that a fifth child would make our lives unbearably hard. I was the one who suggested I take the tea, and with a heavy heart, Gale agreed.

When I asked my sister to make it for me, she dropped her cup of tea, the cup shattering on the floor. I didn't want to ask my sister to make me the tea, but the ingredients were so complex. One wrong measurement or wrong herb, and I could continue bleeding until I was dead. The only other person in the district who could have made it was our late mother. She tried not to look angry, but the envy on her face was plain as day. I had four children and was pregnant with an unwanted fifth, knowing that it would mean bankruptcy for my family. She had a difficult time carrying one pregnancy to term and tried but failed time after time to have more. 

My sister couldn't have another baby and here I was asking her to get rid of mine because I had too many. Prim prepared the tea, and I drank it, bleeding profusely and crying my eyes out while holding her hand. I knew better than anyone how much Prim wanted another child. Prim helped me get rid of mine, and in turn, I saved hers from the arena. 

"I love you," Prim whispered. We held each other until a Peacekeeper came and pried her off me, kicking and screaming out of the room.

The children followed. I gave a last bit of advice to each of them just in case I didn't come back.

"Mason, grades aren't everything. Use that brain of yours for things other than school." 

He nodded. Mason had straight A's, and I was so proud. However, I was much prouder of his ability to invent. He gladly repurposed everything in our house. 

"Heath, grow big and strong. Be brave, but enjoy your childhood."

Heath wanted to be helpful and often volunteered to check the snare lines and do the laundry. Like Gale, he was fourteen and already six feet tall, his shoulders broad and growing facial hair. Gale and I didn't have childhoods, but we wanted our son to have one.

"Willow, have a happy marriage with Ivan. You're entering a life as a merchant's wife, and people will talk. Never forget where you come from." 

Her blue eyes sparkled with tears, and I know that the gossip surrounding her engagement has already impacted her. 

I turned towards my oldest last. 

"Get out of your marriage," I asserted, knowing that doing so was highly unlikely but needing to put the words out there.

Rose blinked back tears. "I can't."

My daughter wasn't brave in the way her siblings were; she was the self-sacrificing kind of brave, and if today was any indication, I was too.

She couldn't stay in a loveless marriage for financial security. Not for Gale. Not for Willow. Not for Heath or Mason.

It wasn't fair, but then again single-handedly raising Prim wasn't fair to me either.

I narrowed my grey eyes on Rose. "You have to."

Rose shook her head. "No, Mom. I mean that I really can't. I'm pregnant."

_Pregnant?_ And with that revelation, the Peacekeepers arrived and escorted the kids out before we could get any last hugs or kisses- only cries of "I love you" ringing throughout the room.

And then the stream of visitors continued. Rory. Vick. Posy. My nieces and nephews. Thom. 

Before I knew it, the visiting hour was over. Peacekeepers escorted Mr. Mellark and I to the train. We took a seat in the first car, and both of us peered out of the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of our families.

My family was right in front of the train- Mason on Gale's shoulders. Rose and Daven right next to him. Heath, Willow, and Ivan Cartwright in the front. Prim, her husband, and Birch. Posy. Her husband. The kids. Vick. His wife. The kids. Rory. 

The train chugged away, and I kept looking at my family until I couldn't see them or the platform anymore.

"How was your visiting session?"

I inwardly groaned. I hoped this wouldn't be like trading with Mr. Mellark- this small talk was excruciating.

"Good," I stated vaguely, and then to appease him I added, "Rose, my oldest, is pregnant."

His eyes lit up. "You're going to be a grandmother, Katniss!"

I looked at him as if he were crazy, which he might be. Daven would make a terrible father, and having a grandchild would normally be a joyous occasion. However, if this baby bound Rose to Daven, it was the worst thing that could have happened to Rose.

I feigned excitement for his sake though. Maybe he was trying to distract us from what was to come. 

"I'm so jealous. Addie's twelve, so it'll be awhile before I'm a grandfather." 

He then launched into a story about his late father's reaction to being called grandpa, and I listened intently, knowing his father was a good man. He then asked me how my mother reacted to news of my first pregnancy.

I remember exactly how she reacted to news of my first pregnancy. She didn't- not really anyways. She looked at me with that far-off look on her face and asked me what birth control method Gale and I were using. When I told her that we were using the "pull-out" method for the most part, my mother frowned and told me about herbs and teas that were more effective in preventing a pregnancy from occurring. However, I don't think it's appropriate to tell the baker this story, so I lie. 

I tell him that after my father died, very little could make my mother happy but news of her grandchild brought my mother back to life. It's lies- all lies, and Mr. Mellark probably knows this considering my mother killed herself with a strong concoction not too long before my son's birth, but I'm not sure those rumors reached town. 

Mr. Mellark listens intently, asks a question or two about my mother's facial expression so that he "can form a picture in his mind"- how bizarre is that? However, inside I wonder  _how in the world am I going to kill Mr. Mellark?_

Haymitch Abernathy, the only living victor of the Hunger Games and our mentor bursts into our compartment of the train, already downing a flask filled with some kind of alcohol- possibly whiskey judging by the smell.

"Well, if it wasn't for the two _brave_ volunteers!" he bellowed, taking another gulp of his flask and flopping into a chair across from us.

"Aren't you supposed to be giving us advice instead of making drunken remarks?" Mr. Mellark inquired, courage seeping into his voice.

Haymitch chuckled. "Stay alive." 

And suddenly, I'm furious that I'm entering these Games, and Haymitch's only advice is to  _stay alive._

So I leap from my chair and take Haymitch's liquor from him, downing it myself. Then, I stalk off towards my room but not before hearing Haymitch muttering, "She is a strangely unlikable person." 

* * *

Whatever was in the flask, it was strong.  

I suppose that it was a stupid move, but I was just so angry at my mentor's callous attitude, and I guess that I should have suspected the alcohol would be strong. Haymitch must have built up enough of a tolerance that normal alcohol didn't impact him at all.

I needed to sober up, so I lay down on the bed and let out a bit of a laugh.

How can a bed on a Capitol train be more comfortable than my bed at home? 

Despite the fancy pillows and feather comforter, I wished more than anything to be home, lying next to Gale in our bed half this size.

 

Today's events were an absolute _nightmare_ , and as I drift off to sleep, I pretend that I'm back in District 12 and none of this has happened.    

**Author's Note:**

> Seeking Beta.   
> Thanks for staking through this story!  
> I know stories where Katniss and Peeta are in relationships and have children with other people aren't popular, but I write for myself first and for others second. Please give me constructive criticism.


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